time, in all places wherein he shall think meet, for all unlicensed printing presses any way employed in printing scandalous and unlicensed papers, pamphlets, books, or ballads, and to search for such unlicensed books, papers, treatises,' &c. But even in those dark days Milton made at least one convert, and we may well believe that throughout the country those who had ears to hear heard him, although there might be no public response. This one convert was one of the Licensers, Gilbert Mabbott by name. When in May 1649 he resigned his post, he gave reasons for this step that were clearly derived from the Areopagitica1. When the Independents rose into power, though there was no formal repeal of the stringent ordinances of the Long Parliament, yet they were no longer executed, at least so far as matters of religious opinion were concerned, with the rigour their predecessors had practised, or desired. The office of Licenser fell into abeyance. Religious tolerance had long been the watchword of the Independents, and it redounds to their glory that they did not, after attaining power, discredit the professions they had made when smarting under the coercions of others. It is true that their notion of tolerance was imperfect, as indeed was that of Milton and of Jeremy Taylor; that they excepted Roman Catholics; that they once or twice inflicted punishment on antitrinitarians; that they ordered certain blasphemous books to be burned; that they prohibited the Episcopalian worship. Something might readily be said by way of apology for these deflections from the highest ideal. But this defence unattempted, it remains true that they were the first party in England, perhaps in Europe, that distinctly professed the principle of religious toleration as a practical principle of their politics, and that after the overthrow of the Presbyterians they adhered in success to the creed of their adversity. With regard to political writings during the Commonwealth, the peculiar position of the government must be remembered. It is clear that a free political Press is not easily compatible with a rule that is not firmly based on the national consent. And, however decidedly we may reject the old royalist legends of Cromwell's selfish ambition and 1 See Birch's Life of Milton. Birch quotes from 'A Perfect Diurnal of some Passages in Parliament,' &c., No. 304, for May, 21-29, 1649. remorseless tyranny,-to whatever degree we may sympathize with Milton's admiration for 'Our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough'd, Hast rear'd God's trophies, and His work pursu’d,'— whatever pride we may take in his foreign policy, that made the English name respected and potent throughout Europe as scarcely ever before or since, yet it must be confessed that the Protector governed a reluctant people, and was encompassed at home by discontents and threatenings and treacheries. Not all his merits could overcome the enormous difficulties of the situation for partly they were not recognised at all; partly they were in the eyes of a great mass of the nation more than counterbalanced by what were thought to be egregious errors and defects. Hence, in mere self-defence, it seemed that private presses could not be allowed, and that allowed presses must be regulated. It was ordered in October 1653 (some two months before the Protectorate was formally established) that no person should presume to publish in print any matter of public news or intelligence without leave and approbation of the Secretary of State. A government obnoxious to the prejudices of the country, and that could not with safety to itself permit political matters to be freely discussed, could not be expected to stand. When the strong hand of Cromwell was relaxed by death, there was no vital force left in the political system he had organized; and after nine months of imminent chaos the nation, whose loyalty had never expired, but had of late years burned fervently, however silently, turned once more to its old traditions. With the Restoration the old régime was for the most part revived. It was even proposed by some ardent spirits to recall the Star Chamber into life; but, wild as was the reactionary enthusiasm of the day, they failed to achieve such a dismal resurrection. But the old restrictions of the Press were once more rigorously enforced. In 1662 the office of Licenser was revived, the Judges, certain officers of state, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, being appointed to supervise various departments of literature. In 1663 Roger L'Estrange was appointed Licenser-an appointment he seems to have held, possibly with an intermission, till the Revolution, when he was succeeded by one Fraser, who, probably for some negligence in the discharge of his functions-it is said for having allowed to be printed Dr. Walker's True Account of the Author of Eikon Basilike—was presently dismissed, when Edmund Bohun, a Suffolk justice, took his place. Bohun was to be the last of the Licensers, for the system had entered upon its last generation when it was reinstituted by Charles II. The Act of 16621 was, in short, but a new version of the previous parliamentary ordinances; and a proclamation was issued 'for suppressing the printing and publishing unlicensed news-books and pamphlets of news, because it has become a common practice for evil-disposed persons to vend to his Majesty's people all the idle and malicious reports that they could collect or invent, contrary to law; the continuance whereof would, in a short time, endanger the peace of the kingdom; the same manifestly tending thereto, as has been declared by all his Majesty's subjects unanimously.' L'Estrange, himself a virulent pamphleteer and acrid journalist both before and after the Restoration, was not idle in his office; and so our literature, under his dictatorship, was subjected to perpetual mutilation. 'The sponge2' was ever in his hand, and he slurred and rubbed without compunction. Out of many instances of the manner in which this censorial jurisdiction was exercised by him, or by his assessors, Milton himself may be cited. It appears that Paradise Lost was itself in danger. The suspicious eye of the licenser―the Rev. Thomas Tomkyns, one of the chaplains of Archbishop Sheldon—had lighted upon certain lines in Book I; see 594-600. 'As when the sun new ris'n 1 13 and 14 Car. II. c. 33. 2 See p. 12. On half the nations, and with fear of change The sensitive royalist, it is said, smelt treason in this mention of monarchs perplexed with fear of change, and pondered whether he should not suppress the whole work, though indeed a free excision might have satisfied the requirements of the case. That he permitted to pass unchallenged other passages of the poem, as I. 497–502, VII. 23–38, XII. 13–104, may perhaps excite surprise. Possibly he may have thought it not worth his while to revise too severely a work that seemed so little in harmony with the taste of the time, and therefore so little likely to enjoy any wide popularity. In the case of another of his writings Milton did not escape so easily. His History of Britain actually suffered laceration. Several passages, describing the pride and superstition of the 'Saxon' monks were, it is said, taken to be aimed at the prelates of his own time, and were accordingly expunged. If this was his interpretation, the licenser blundered oddly, for the passages certainly portray the Long Parliament and the Assembly of Divines. The current story may not perhaps do the licenser justice. According to Richardson the passages had been excised ‘as being a sort of digression, and in order to avoid giving offence to a party quite subdued, and whose faults the government were then willing to have forgotten.' The licenser might expunge, but he could not destroy them. 'Milton gave a copy of the proscribed remarks to the Earl of Anglesea, which were published in 1681, with a preface declaring that they originally belonged to the third book of his history, and they are now found in their proper place1.' Thus Milton suffered himself the degradation he mentions with such keen abhorrence in the Areopagitica2. Amongst the many bitternesses his great heart was destined to know, in the course of his vexed life, this assuredly was not the least. Not to be counted 'fit to print his mind without a tutor and examiner,' was, he held, 'the greatest 1 See Todd's Milton's Poetical Works, i. 209, ed. 1826. 2 See the passage in Prose Works, 502-504. It begins, Of those who swayed most in the late troubles,' &c.; and ends, which give us matter of this digression.' 1 displeasure and indignity to a free and knowing spirit that can be put upon him.' One may imagine the profound contempt, and also the sad anguish-one may scorn one's foes, but yet their arrows pierce us-with which, in his retired house in Artillery Walk, he would hear of the insolent scrutinies of the precious life-blood of his 'master spirit,' with whose embalming and treasuring up on purpose to a life beyond life, coarse hands were thus rudely interfering1. The Act of 1662 expired in 1679. It was formally renewed in 16852, and continued till 1692. In 1692 it was re-enacted for two more years. When it lapsed in 1694 it låpsed for ever, in spite of various advocacies and clamours repeated from time to time. In his account of the final extinction in 1694 of a power so formidable and so perilous, Macaulay well points out how quietly and unobservedly it happened. When the question was put in the House of Commons 'That the House do agree with the Committee on the Resolution that the Act, entitled an Act for preventing Abuses in printing Seditious, treasonable, and unlicensed Pamphlets, and for regulating of Printing and Printing Presses be continued,' 'the Speaker pronounced that the Noes had it,' and the Ayes did not think fit to divide. The Lords, indeed, proposed to continue it; but when the Commons presently set forth their objections in a paper delivered to the Lords, and these objections all related to matters of detail, being many of them what Milton would have called 'arguments of merchandize,'' the Lords yielded without a contest.' 'The Lords yielded without a contest. They probably expected that some less objectionable bill for the regulation of the press would soon be sent up to them, and, in fact, such a bill was brought into the House of Commons, read twice, and referred to a Select Committee. But the Session closed before the Committee had reported, and English literature was emancipated, and emancipated for ever, from the control of the Government' In subsequent years-in 1697, in 1703, in 1713-the subject was again mooted, for there were not wanting outside the walls of Parliament those who called upon the House to re-impose 1 See p. 6. 2 See Macaulay's Hist. of England, ii. 162, ed. 1861. 3 Ibid. vii. 169, ed. 1861. |